Deadly Rising

by Jeri Westerson

  Everyone screamed and fell back. Instinctually, I shoved Jeff behind me and backed away as it began climbing out of the puddle toward me.

  The patrons slammed the bar door open and poured out. I half-expected the crossbow to appear, but it was probably too far away to travel. I’d have to improvise.

  I grabbed a chair to fend off the kelpie. I was holding it more or less at bay until Jeff grabbed my arm to pull me back. The kelpie lunged.

  “Jeff! Let go of me!”

  I struggled in his grip. The kelpie reared up. I elbowed Jeff in the face. He fell back with a yelp. With one hand, I swung the chair and smacked the kelpie in the muzzle. It fell backward, howling and shrieking, legs in the air, mane flying all around its face.

  Out of nowhere, Doug brandished a spear with a glowing head and jabbed it toward the beast. It snarled and lashed its head but slowly backed into the puddle. It flashed its red eyes at me once more before it dropped like an anchor into the water and disappeared.

  I stared at Doug and his spear. He glanced back at me, tightening his grip on the shaft and panting.

  “Maybe I don’t want your book,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Doug and I calmed everyone down. We managed to convince the crowd it was a magic trick. In their drunken state, they seemed to buy it—though the waitress and bartender took a little more convincing. I discovered that people are more willing to believe any explanation rather than the possibility that a monster could be real. The bartender was shaken and wanted us to leave, but Doug bought a round for what was left of the house and asked to use the private room in the back. We all retreated there, the Ordo on one side of the small room and me and Jeff on the other.

  Jeff was shaking. “There is no way that was a magic trick. Jesus, Kylie, I felt that thing’s breath! What the hell is going on?”

  Where was Erasmus? He had promised…shit. Demons lie. I really had to take that one to heart.

  Should I tell everyone about the Booke? I didn’t feel I had a choice anymore.

  “Okay. This is what happened. A week ago, I found this Booke bricked up in the wall of my shop. It’s old, about so big…” I framed my hands to about ten by thirteen inches. “And as soon as I opened it, I set off a chain of events, and weird demon creatures started coming out of it.”

  “The succubus,” said Doug.

  “Yeah, and now this kelpie, the horse thing in the water. I had no idea it could come from a puddle. I thought it needed a pond or a bog or something. The kelpie pretends to be stuck in a bog and lures people toward it. Once you touch it, you’re stuck and get dragged down to drown. But it’s particularly after me.”

  “Why?” wailed Jeff.

  “Because I opened the Booke. I’m…called the Chosen Host. It’s my job to kill these things, capture them. They go back in the Booke, and when they do, I write in the Booke’s pages with my blood what they are and what happened, and it keeps them there. The demon, Erasmus, is the guardian of the Booke or something. This amulet controls him.” I lifted the chain to bring out the warm demon face from my sweater and showed Jeff.

  He looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

  “Kylie,” he gasped. “Why don’t you just leave?” He kept eyeing Doug’s spear.

  “I can’t. It’s my fault.”

  Jeff was sputtering. “How many creatures are there?”

  “I have no idea. Something else came out of the Booke too, but we don’t know what it is yet. Erasmus thinks that their numbers will accelerate as we approach Halloween. So it’s a lot worse than I thought.”

  “You have to leave. Come home with me.”

  “No, Jeff. This is my life now. Not this, but my shop. But this is also part of it, I guess. The Booke acts like a gateway, like the vortex you guys made,” I said to Doug. “Only I have no control over what comes out. So Shabiri is full of shit if she thinks it’s useful to you at all. That’s why I want your help.”

  Doug chuffed a laugh. “For the good of Old Moody Bog? I couldn’t care less about the people there.”

  “Then care about yourself. Care about Charise, because women are particularly attracted to kelpies. Just be careful the next time you take a bath.”

  Charise cringed and grabbed Doug’s arm. “Make her kill it, Doug.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s her plan, sweetheart.”

  I gestured toward his spear. “Where’d you get that?”

  “I decided I needed a weapon too. Something to match your crossbow. Shabiri got it for me. Convenient, these amulets.”

  “Yes, very.”

  Doug looked at the spear, whose head no longer glowed. “It’s called Gáe Bulg.” Sounded like he called it guy bul-ag. “It was the mythical spear of the Irish king Cú Chulainn. It means ‘Spear of Mortal Pain.’ Neat name, huh?” He pressed a button on the shaft and it telescoped like a car antenna. He tucked the now ruler-sized spear neatly inside his jacket. My crossbow didn’t stow so conveniently, but I still wished I had it in my hand.

  “Why did Shabiri tell you to get the Booke?”

  “She mentioned something about whoever controls the book controls the other demon.”

  Now it was becoming clearer. Miss Catsuit wanted Erasmus. “It’s nontransferable. Believe me, if it were, I’d give it up in a second.”

  “So you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart? Or because you feel guilty?”

  “I know this is a tough concept for you, but yeah. I just want to be left alone to run my business. I have absolutely no ulterior motives.”

  “So how does my dear brother the sheriff fit in?”

  I shrugged. “I like him. We’re dating.”

  He laughed. “Well I’ll be damned. Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. Why don’t you reconnect with him? He’s not a bad guy.”

  “Oh, no, he’s not a bad guy. Perfect Ed. My parents loved him. He could do no wrong. He got straight A’s while I struggled for every B and C. He won awards while I just dropped out. Ed became the sheriff and I became a humble grease monkey.”

  “Oh boo-freakin’-hoo. Get over it. You each have talents the other doesn’t have. That’s what siblings are all about. It’s not his fault that your parents were idiots.”

  “You know what? You don’t know shit about it.”

  “Kylie.” Jeff clawed at my sleeve. “Don’t make him mad. He’s got that spear thingy.”

  “And I’ve got a crossbow. And no chip on my shoulder.”

  “That’s not what Jeffy here says.”

  “Jeff needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”

  “They beat me up!”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” I said. “So the question is now, do I tell Ed or not?”

  Doug scowled. No, he didn’t like that. Didn’t think it through, did you, Dougy?

  “So wait a minute,” said Jeff in a stretched voice. “That creepy guy outside your shop…was a demon?”

  “Yes, Jeff. He’s the guardian of the Booke. He sort of protects me. Though where exactly he is right now is a mystery. He was supposed to keep an eye on me, the jerk.”

  “Looks like you’re pretty good at protecting yourself,” said Doug.

  I thrust my hands into my jacket pockets. “We’re gonna go, Doug. Don’t contact me again unless you want to help. I’m going to have to think about whether I tell the sheriff about this.”

  Jeff whined indignantly. “What about me? Don’t I get a say?”

  I grabbed Jeff’s arm, manhandling him out of the room and across the bar before he could say anything else.

  He let me push him all the way out the door. When we came to the Jeep, he shook me off. “I don’t know where all this is coming from,” he said shakily. “You weren’t like this in California. It’s those Wiccans, I bet. And why aren’t we calling the police?”

  “Weren’t you listening in there?” I unlocked the door. “Is your car here?”

  �
�Yeah.”

  “Then get in it. I’m following you to the motel and then you’re checking out and leaving.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do! Christ, Kylie. This isn’t like you at all.”

  “I was never in mortal peril before. Didn’t know there were vortexes or different planes of existence, or gods or demons. So it is different now, okay? And I can’t have you getting in the way. Someone might get hurt.”

  “But what about the police?”

  “We don’t have time for that now. And it’s my only leverage over them.”

  He stumbled back and fell against the Jeep, staring at me. “Leverage? What about what I want?”

  “That ship sailed…a long time ago. You’re going to pack up and get out of here.”

  He looked back at the roadhouse. “Those guys don’t scare me.”

  “Well they scare me! They’re Wiccans too, Jeff, only not the friendly kind that come to my shop. They’re the kind that do animal sacrifices. And you were gonna be next.”

  He touched his throat and swallowed hard. “Jesus. You gotta get out of here.”

  “I…I just have to finish this job…and then life will go back to normal…I hope.” I leaned an arm against the car. “But you have to go.”

  “Kylie, I want to stay to help.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Kylie…”

  “Dammit, Jeff! Just go!”

  “Maybe the lady wasn’t being clear,” said Erasmus, suddenly at Jeff’s elbow. He grasped it and squeezed. Jeff collapsed on one knee, grimacing with pain.

  “Erasmus! Stop it!”

  He let Jeff go, but it seemed to annoy him to do it.

  Jeff rubbed his elbow and used the car to lever himself up again. “Fucking freak!”

  Erasmus got up into his face and flashed his rows and rows of sharp teeth. “Oh, I am far more than that.”

  “Erasmus,” I warned.

  He smoldered for a moment. The wisps of smoke curled off his shoulders and dissipated. He was coiled to spring. And Jeff, as much as he wanted to put on a good face, was cringing back against the car.

  “Jeff,” I said gently. “You need to check out of your motel. I’m going to follow you and I recommend you do it.”

  He looked from me to Erasmus, who was still grinning like he was thinking Jeff would be a good dinner. Jeff swallowed, fumbled for his car keys, and backed away toward his rented blue Toyota.

  He started it up as I got into my Jeep. Erasmus chose to go his own way, and I followed Jeff up the road into the ever-darkening shadows of the woods.

  He pulled into an old-fashioned motel from the forties, painted red with white trim. Aunt Emma’s Motor Court. I pulled into the space beside Jeff’s car.

  He got out his room key, the old kind with a fob, and stomped to his room. I got out and followed him up to the painted red door. “You don’t have to shadow me like this,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t trust you to do as I say.”

  “You were never like this before,” he muttered, opening the door.

  It was an average motel room with two beds. Jeff’s duffle bag had been thrown into a corner. He picked it up and began stuffing strewn-about clothes back into it. I grabbed his toiletries from the sink counter and dropped them into his dopp kit.

  “I can handle it myself,” he said, snatching his toothbrush out of my hand. “You could at least let me stay long enough to call the airport.”

  “There isn’t time. It’s too dangerous.”

  He glanced back toward Erasmus, who was standing outside, pacing back and forth across the damp parking lot.

  “Is he really a demon?” he whispered, thumbing back toward Erasmus.

  “What do you think?”

  “And you control him…with that?” He pointed toward the amulet.

  “Yes, apparently. I know this is really hard to take in, but…”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s like a nightmare.”

  “You’re telling me. I’ve seen some really weird stuff in the last week. I never believed in any of this either. But now…”

  “You should run away. You should come with me. Come on, Kylie. You don’t owe these people anything. Just get out.”

  “I don’t know that it works that way.”

  “Have you tried? Just hop on the plane with me and let’s escape.”

  “I…I can’t. Maybe I do owe them something. Turns out…it’s not just my grandpa who was from here. My ancestors helped found this place.”

  “What? Someone’s giving you a load of bull.”

  “No. I found it out myself. It’s all true. I think I was…fated to come here. I don’t think I can just run away and leave it all behind. At worst, I think it would just follow me.” Even as I said it, I felt the calling from the Booke. It was far away, back at my shop, but I could hear it like a shuddering in my bones. It would never let me go. But Jeff’s expression and bruised face were getting to me. “Should I…should I help you…with your…” I gestured to his cuts and bruises.

  He looked in the mirror and sagged against the counter. “Jesus.” He grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the hot water. Dabbing at his face, he winced from the pain as he cleaned most of it off. The swelling was going to take some days to go down. “Are we at least going to call the police?”

  “I…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He spun around. “Not a good idea? Dammit, Kylie. Those assholes kidnapped me, beat me up. Shouldn’t they go to jail?”

  “Yes, they should, but…” I pulled away and looked at the shabby curtains. “Jeff, the sheriff doesn’t know about the supernatural stuff. How would I ever explain it?”

  “And you like him. You don’t want to make waves.”

  Was that the reason? I shrugged.

  He snorted and packed…until we both heard it. He rushed to the window beside me and looked out. That weird howl. It rippled gooseflesh over my neck and arms, but I couldn’t see anything in the dense woods across the highway.

  “What is that?” he whispered. “I heard it yesterday. Are there wolves here?”

  “I don’t know. Just hurry up and pack, okay?”

  He returned to it, packing a little faster. I walked with him to the office but didn’t go in. Instead, I stood in the parking lot, waiting, listening for a sound that didn’t come again. I happened to glance back at the motel and saw Deputy George, mustache and all, leaving a room, tucking in his uniform shirt, and looking furtively around.

  Oh, ho! A little afternoon delight for Deputy Mustache. As he drove away, lights blaring on his sheriff’s Interceptor, I kept watch on his motel door, wondering what bimbo might…

  “Holy shit.”

  Nick Riley, goth Wiccan, closed the door after him and sprinted to his junker as it started to rain. “Nick? Oh my God.” Nick and Deputy George? No wonder Nick played it close to the vest. Was it love…or the only game in town? I started planning the good-natured ribbing I was going to give him when Jeff nearly bumped into me.

  He dropped his bag into the trunk of his rental. “What now? I just leave you here? It doesn’t seem to be a very chivalrous thing to do.”

  “Have you ever been chivalrous?”

  He lowered his face but said nothing.

  “I’ll follow you to the highway.”

  “So this is really goodbye.”

  I shook my head. “It was goodbye two months ago.”

  Jeff got into his car and pulled out of the space. I followed behind him until we were well and truly out of Hansen Mills. We hit the highway and I followed for a few miles before pulling over near the verge and watching his car vanish around a bend in the road.

  A rush of wind told me Erasmus had decided to join me. “He’s gone?” he said.

  “Yeah.” It felt strange, stranger than when I left him the first time. I wondered why I was filled with foreboding, even as he was fleeing from here and o
ut of harm’s way.

  Erasmus was staring at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said softly.

  I got out my phone to escape those eyes of his and punched in Grandpa’s address on the GPS.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “I’m looking for my grandfather’s house. It’s around here somewhere and I want to see it.”

  “Do you think there’s time for this?”

  I checked the car clock. I’d been gone from the shop a long time. But Jolene would arrive soon and she had a key. “I’m here. I might as well. You don’t have to go with me.”

  “I’m here,” he said coolly. “I might as well.”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

  “A riot,” he deadpanned.

  I followed the GPS, making a U-turn. It said to take a left onto a dirt road that quickly became muddy and then graveled. My Jeep was doing all right with four-wheel drive, though.

  Another right onto a smaller road led me up a hill. My neck hairs began to stand up. This was familiar. That bent tree. I remembered it. I slowed as we passed it, looking through the rain-streaked glass, mesmerized by seeing the thing in the flesh, those only half-remembered bits and pieces that turned out to be true.

  “Over the hill,” I whispered, “there will be a rusty windmill.”

  Erasmus leaned toward me. “What did you say?”

  Before I could answer, there it was. It had lost many of its blades now, but the rusty windmill that had creaked and turned in the summer breezes was still there. And then the house. So much smaller than I remembered. Dingy, gray. The wide porch was still there. The upper window in the lone dormer was dark. There were no lights. The place seemed abandoned.

  I pulled up and shut off the engine, expecting my grandfather to come striding out the front door with a pitcher of lemonade or a wrench to fix his tractor. But the view was all wrong. The sky should have been blue and sunny. The trees around it should have been full and green, not twiggy and dead from the fall. I looked back down the hill and could just make out the dark gray Atlantic through the mist between the trees.

  I hadn’t realized I’d gotten out of the car until Erasmus grabbed my arm.

  “You mustn’t,” he said urgently.